


Remember?

by ExplainingTheIndescribable



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-05-29 23:34:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15084176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExplainingTheIndescribable/pseuds/ExplainingTheIndescribable
Summary: What if, Hermione hadn't been able to get her parents' memories back? Longing for some sense of normalcy, she goes looking for a memory restoration charm. Except the only book which may help her, disappeared from the Black family's private collection during a fire in 1967... Eventual Bellamione. Possibly Andymione too along the way. Previous Romione for plot reasons - mostly implied because I couldn't truly do anything other than F/F.Cross-posted, as I was made aware FF is banned in some places(?!)





	1. Atlas

Hermione paused in the doorway, on her way back from getting a glass of water. The Burrow was filled with laughter as Ginny told a story about one of their new Quidditch team recruits, who had panicked and flown inadvertently into the Forbidden Forest whilst being chased by a bludger, screaming all the while. They’d found him eventually. Hermione felt the corner of her lips tug up into a smile at the sight of everyone laughing and teasing and sharing a normalcy that felt almost like… home. The strange sensation of a weight settling in her chest made her realise it was time to go. Suddenly, she didn’t feel like being surrounded with people anymore.  
She said her goodbyes, gave and received hugs, and was sent away with a casserole of Molly’s new-and-improved recipe vegetarian lasagne; enjoying that some things would never change. When she arrived back to her apartment overlooking the tail end of Diagon Alley, she kicked off her shoes and flopped back onto her bed, trying to figure out how to ease the weight that felt as though it was restricting her breathing.

An owl arrived, bumping into the window twice until Hermione was pretty much forced to get up and open the window to prevent it happening a third time, and recognising Errol as she took the letter from his foot. She set the letter down on her desk by the window, pet his head and gave him a few treats before he settled down onto one of her bedposts.  
Untying the string holding the parchment rolled up, she scanned Ginny’s lilting scrawl and sighed. As much as she was grateful to have friends who checked in to ask her if everything was okay – she had left a bit abruptly – she also just wanted to vanish from the world for a while. Composing a quick reply that she was fine, just sleep-deprived, but she would definitely be at Teddy’s birthday tomorrow, she gave Errol a few more treats then tied the letter to his leg and sent him off again, wincing as he almost crashed into a lamp post; poor clumsy little thing. 

She knew really, what it was that was bothering her, but thought she had started to make her peace with it; she had begun to resign herself to that fact that if there were a memory charm or a reversal charm or just something that could restore her parents’ memories, she would have found it by now - or at least an indication that it existed in the realm of known magic. If comprehensive research throughout the Hogwarts library wasn’t enough, she had become ever more of a regular at Flourish & Blotts, hoping someone somewhere in one of their books would be able to give her an inkling of what to do next, something new or different that she could try. Even Obscurus’ had been keeping her updated as to any new books they were approached to publish. She was almost flush out of ideas. Almost.

Trying to invoke a new determination within herself, it didn’t feel right to give up just yet, Hermione decided it was time to go to the less savoury parts of town. Even if it was some kind of darker magic, in her desperation she could convince herself that the ends would justify the means, if there was no other way. Or that maybe it would inspire something new – as if anything good or pure had ever had its origins in that particular brand of magic. 

Hermione paused, wondering why she suddenly felt nauseous. Holding her hand to her stomach, she ran through a quick check, making sure nothing else felt off. Other than a slight headache at the edges of her mind, everything else appeared fine. Wrongfully dismissing it as attributable to a combination of stress and being run-down, or something equally innocuous, she decided to turn in early and at least attempt to reduce the intensity of her current level of sleep-deprivation. 

Hermione awoke with a start when it was still dark enough to be only a few hours past midnight; another nightmare wonderful. Relinquishing any further hopes of having a peaceful rest, she rose to make a cup of coffee – there was no way she was going to be able to keep her eyes open any other way. Hermione was half-way through pouring the boiled water into the mug before she zoned out from the task completely, hyper-focused on the persistent nausea still making its presence known in her tummy. She was semi-debating sending a quick note to Molly, she would know of some home remedy or simple little spell that would relieve the sick-type feeling in her stomach, but she knew how that conversation would go. Molly would tell her to take it easier and then start teasing her about- Hermione almost dropped the kettle into the mug full of scalding hot water. She set it down on the table with a force that produced a noisy ‘thunk’, and tugged her calendar down from the wall. Today was the 27th. She was two weeks late. She pulled back pages, looking through the month before, and then the month before that. Merlin, she was a month and two weeks late. And she’d been too caught up in restoring her parents’ memories to notice. Fuck. 

She sat down hard on one of the kitchen chairs, remembering George and Angelina’s wedding a few months ago. Too much elf-wine and …fuck.  
Not for the first time, Hermione wished she could’ve asked for her mother and father’s advice, or at least sought them out for the comfort she knew they would have provided without judgement, question or hesitation. No longer feeling like drinking the coffee she’d just made, Hermione poured it down the sink, returned the kettle to its rightful place and went to lie down. Fate had a funny way of giving her the chance at the family she didn’t want, in place of the one she did.

She was ever gladder to be laying on a soft surface when she realised she should probably tell Ron, even if she wasn’t going to keep it, she reasoned that she would want to know if she were in his position. At least, she supposed, he would be there tomorrow if she decided it was the right time to tell him. That was going to be probably more awkward than their break-up two weeks after the wedding. He’d been shockingly utterly surprised that time too, as though a happy couple were supposed to not really talk all that much, or spend time together. She pulled the pillow out from under her head and put it over her face, letting her arms rest atop it. She’d made it through that, she could make it through this. But still, it was going to be a long day.


	2. Teddy Bear

The next day, Hermione was true to her word and after picking up a gift-bag for the books and toys she’d got him, apparated to the apparition point closest to Andromeda’s house – Andy had set up old magic wards years ago, to prevent any unwanted surprise guests arriving without at least a warning. As she wandered along the path, she breathed deeply, enjoying the crunch of leaves underfoot, as well as with the lack of smog that came from leaving the city. Stepping slightly out of her way to step on the crunchiest leaves, she got to the front door just in time for a half-metamorphmagused Teddy, with an elephant trunk and bright pink flamingo feathers along his shoulders, to tackle her legs. “Aunty ‘Mione!” Hermione grinned and attempted to one-arm hug him, despite the height difference. When he let go, she crouched down, set aside the gift-bag and pretended to look at him suspiciously. “My nephew isn’t an elephant with pink shoulders!” Hermione studied him, “nope, definitely not. It is his birthday though, so I’ve come to see him. Do you know where he is?” Hermione pretended to look around, hand shielding her eyes from the sun, searching high and low for him. Teddy laughed, “’Mione! It’s me!” She looked at him again, stroking an invisible beard on her chin in thought, before feigning a moment of sudden realisation, “oh my goodness! It is you!” Without further ado, she swept him up and spun him around, before pulling him close, “happy birthday Teddy-bear.” Teddy morphed his nose back to its normal shape, albeit sky-blue in colour, and grinned, “I told you.”   
“You did indeed. I will have to listen to you more often.” Hermione’s face was entirely serious as she said these words, and remained so as she tucked him under her arm like a newspaper before picking up the bag with her other hand and walking into the house.  
Teddy giggled the entire time.   
Andromeda came around the corner, noticing the wide-open door, “Teddy!”   
“Don’t worry, I’ve got him.” Hermione said, winking at Andy, who raised an eyebrow. “He was running away to join the circus. But I caught him just in time.”  
“The circus, huh?” Andy crouched down and twisted her head to the side, until she was eye to eye with the grinning boy.  
“Yup, I was gonna be an acrobat.”  
“Ah, I see…” Andy lifted Teddy from Hermione’s arm and hung him upside-down, “you don’t have to run away to do that, you know.”  
Hermione grinned as Andromeda set him down, exchanging a quick hug, along with the usual small talk and comments about how much he’d grown.  
“He’s picking up the morphing quickly, same as Nymphadora did,” Andromeda’s expression turned slightly, her smile bittersweet. Hermione put a hand between her should blades, “and I’m sure he’ll be just as much trouble.” Andy’s lips turned up in a grin at the thought of that inevitability, and the joviality of the moment was restored. “Oh, he’s already catching up fast…”

Hermione was the first to arrive for Teddy’s birthday gathering, and sat with Andromeda in the kitchen, sipping warm tea as Andy regaled her with stories of Teddy causing mischief in class, as the boy himself was thoroughly occupied with the birthday trinkets Hermione had given him.   
The others started to arrive soon after, Ginny with Harry and the rest of the Weasley clan, along with Narcissa and Draco. Even if everybody didn’t quite get along, they had an unspoken agreement – in some cases, in others Andromeda has threatened people at wand point – to be amiable around Teddy, he was important to all of them. As the house filled up and the noise level became a loud hum, Hermione retreated to the garden, half-heartedly scolding herself for not being able to lose herself in the festivities of the day. She looked out at the wild fields that spread off into the distance, admiring the view of unbridled natured before her, and enjoying the cool breeze against her face.

“Is it something to do with Ron?”  
Hermione spun half around, to find Andromeda leaning in the doorway, holding a mug and looking at her.  
“What?”  
The panic lacing her voice was almost invisible.   
Andromeda stepped out into the garden, but kept a distance between them.  
“Is he the reason you’re… not quite yourself, today?”  
Hermione had a moment of realisation that she had completely forgotten she was supposed to be… what? Planning to tell Ron that magical contraceptives weren’t 100% effective? She suddenly understood the ‘it’s complicated’ status people had on muggle social media.

Only, it wasn’t really all that complex. She just hadn’t quite figured out how to tell him and then let him know it wasn’t an option, without hurting him. Would it even hurt if he lost the chance of having something he’d never even known about? The unintentional distance between them probably was helping… Catching sight of Andromeda’s carefully expressionless look – though could she see a hint of concern? Hermione fidgeted slightly and answered slowly, “no. It’s not him. He’s…”   
“…actually a million miles away from your thoughts?”  
“Something like that,” she felt an awkward half smile grace her lips.  
“I won’t pry, but if you need someone-“  
Hermione looked at her as Andy cut herself off, what would be the harm? It might even help, she rationalised.  
“I want… I need to get my parents’ memories back.”   
“Ah.” Andromeda nodded as Hermione continued fidgeting with the sleeve of her plaid shirt, “and you’ve discovered how difficult that’s going to be?”  
It was Hermione’s turn to nod, slightly reluctantly.  
“If it were easy – well, the world would be a different place.”  
Andromeda gazed off into the middle distance as she spoke, as though thinking of a few things in particular she would like to be different. All at once, a thought seemed to occur to her, and she turned to face Hermione, speaking in a carefully measured sort of manner, though Hermione recognised the façade from the twinkle in her eye, “my family – my old family, the ones who disowned me,” she spoke with a reserved, borderline nostalgic, tone, “had a lot of books on memory charms.” Hermione’s heart skipped a beat, realising in that moment how relieved she was that she wouldn’t have to go traipsing around Knockturn Alley to find some halfway-relevant dark arts ritual to perform. It definitely would have been crossing the line between brave and stupid, and Andromeda’s words made her realise how much she had been not looking forward to it. Realising she was caught up in these hope-filled thoughts, Hermione turned her attention back to Andy.  
“I’ll ask Narcissa for you.” Andy caught the cautiously disbelieving look on Hermione’s face and let out a slight laugh, ”she might not be the friendliest person on the planet, but she values family, and she’ll understand why you need to do what you need to do. You remember what she did for Draco? Twice?”  
Hermione bit her tongue and nodded, half unwillingly to allow herself the hope that the answers she’d been seeking had been practically under her nose this entire time.   
She thanked Andromeda, before the older witch rested a hand on her shoulder briefly. There was a silent moment between them, Andromeda might not have been able to get back anything that she had lost in the war, but if there was hope for Hermione, she would help her find it. Hermione looked at her with grateful eyes, noticing suddenly how Andromeda seemed somehow younger in this light, shadows highlighting those sharp, beautiful features characteristic of the Black sisters. Hermione felt herself shiver a little, following which Andromeda raised an eyebrow and pretty much coerced her into going back inside, thinking it was a reaction to the cold.

Narcissa was gone by the time did Hermione venture back inside, but then it wasn’t surprising that her and Draco had left before things got too raucous with the Weasley clan. Ginny was half-way through setting up some kind of extreme Quidditch tournament to take place in the backyard, that Teddy was beyond excited about after Ginny said he could share a broom with her. Andromeda’s eyebrows were approaching her hairline at the increasingly wild suggestions the others were making, such as having the Quaffle be on fire, as a literal hot-potato. Thankfully Molly caught her eye and the two of them started a whispered conversation at the back, on how best to weave an invisible, protective net around the garden, and the possibilities of transfiguring the grass into some kind of foam or bouncy material, to avoid injuries. Molly was an old hat at all this, having turned the fields around the Burrow into a relatively safe Quidditch practise space on multiple occasions. Arthur would have helped too, had he not been asleep on the couch, following a rough night’s work at the Ministry last night, but at least he was getting to enjoy his day off, surrounded by the overenthusiastic, increasingly wild contributions of the people he cared most for. 

After being volunteered by Harry to take part, “the teams need to be even ‘Mione,”, Hermione wound up on a Nimbus, having far too much hectic fun to mull over her conversation with Andromeda. In fact, she forgot about it completely until a letter arrived the next day from an impressively tall, light grey-feathered owl she wasn’t familiar with. The bird flapped long wing-beats outside her window, remaining at a steady height until Hermione unlatched the window and pushed it open, the bird moving swiftly and smoothly out of the way, before settling on the sill and allowing her to remove the letter from its leg. Hermione’s curiosity only grew further as she saw the neat, cursive writing of her name on the front. Cautiously checking the letter for nasty spells, and determining it was clean, she slid open the wax seal carefully, which gave with a pop.   
Unfurling the letter, she found a few flawlessly calligraphied paragraphs in black ink, composed by an elegant hand. Scanning straight down to the bottom of the page, Hermione saw the swirling, neat signature of Narcissa Black. Hermione supposed she must have gotten divorced after the war, then realised she was most definitely focusing on the wrong thing. 

In essence, the letter stated that Andromeda had told caught her up on Hermione’s situation, and that Hermione was welcome to join her and look around the Black’s extensive library, and would Wednesday 2pm suit her? Hermione wrote an immediate, rushed reply, before reading it through and realising she wasn’t making any sense. The owl seemed to look at her judgingly, as she crumpled up her first attempt and threw it in the trash can. Her second attempt was much better, and it actually made sense. Yes, she was happy to meet Narcissa at the entrance to the Manor at 2pm this Wednesday. Secretly insanely grateful the collection had not somehow been moved to Malfoy Manor, though she supposed she could’ve faced some demons if it meant getting some more information. Hermione, satisfied with this attempt, tied it into a tight little roll with a ribbon, before attaching it to the owl’s leg and waiting for him to fly off. The owl looked at her, its dark yellow eyes unblinking. Hermione looked back at the owl. The creature hopped a little to the left, onto the desk and right by where Hermione kept her bowl of owl treats. Hermione shook her head disbelievingly, but picked up a few and gave them to the big grey beast. It took them swiftly, munching in what Hermione could almost imagine was a happy, satisfied fashion, then hopped back onto the windowsill and flew off without further ado.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N I did say /eventual/ Bellamione, didn't I...


	3. Narcissa and the Fire

Hermione arrived at the dark wrought-iron gates to Black Manor at 1:54pm. Looking around, she suddenly wished she hadn’t been so concerned about being late. The barren space looked like it had been desolate for a while; it held a natural emptiness, just missing the rolling tumbleweeds before it would be considered a scene from some abandoned wasteland. Some spell or other was intent on making this place seem deserted and unliveable. Upon closer inspection as she waited, Hermione noticed small signs of life, sprigs of green dotted about the dark brown earth about her feet as she strayed from the path a little ways, hidden somewhat by the unbroken flat land. Before she could wander too far, the black gates swung open, and Hermione caught the tail-end of an incantation Narcissa had spoken; it was time to enter the dragon’s lair. 

Hermione followed at Narcissa’s heels as they turned down a couple of corridors, before stopping at a door that was as tall as the entrance to Hogwarts had seemed to Hermione at the start of her first year. Narcissa pushed the door in as she walked, Hermione a few steps behind her still until she stopped dead. If Hermione had been paying attention, she would have noticed the small smile flit across the blonde’s lips at her own expression, “it’s a rather impressive collection.” She spoke with no small amount of pride, but as the younger witch gazed up at the towering storeys of books that were housed in shelves just shy of touching the ceiling, in a room the height of two whole Manor floors, she thought it was well placed. “It’s- wow.” Looking back as far as she could see, Hermione saw that the room extended a far enough to reach the back of the Manor. Narcissa strode forward, to a few stacks before the window which looked out over the garden, “Andromeda informed me that you were looking for a memory restoration charm,” she paused and ran her finger over the spine of one of the tomes. “I can’t guarantee you’ll find what you’re looking for, but there are a few books which may fit that description.” Narcissa gestured to the stack she was stood by, to a row at the height of her hip, “those are kept here.” Hermione could see these shelves and those surrounding this section of the room were not as well stocked as the others. She would not have thought much of it, except that wood also seemed to be slightly different to that of the rest of the shelves they had walked by, darker, almost a charcoal black.

Hermione turned quizzical eyes upon Narcissa, hoping she would offer an explanation because Merlin knew, she wasn’t about to test her luck by actually asking for one; it was a testament to Narcissa’s understanding for a love of family that she had even made it this far. Narcissa’s blue eyes met Hermione’s gaze, and she acquiesced. “There was a fire here – Fiendfyre, if you’re familiar with it?” Hermione nodded, “it wiped out a good portion of books, most of which would be irreplaceable now, those which were particularly valuable or rare. Some people don’t care for the preservation of knowledge,” here Narcissa’s eyes turned colder and Hermione sensed it would be wise to be as quick as possible in her search.

“I’m sure there will be something, I mean there are just so many books…” Hermione couldn’t quite keep the wonder out of her voice and Narcissa noticed it. The youngest Black sister nodded with a slight turn up of her lips, and left Hermione to her devices, other than to let her know that one of the house elves would let her out when she was ready. Hermione gave her thanks, deciding today was not the day to mention the treatment of house elves and risk being kicked out before discovering anything. She felt very much like she didn’t quite know where she stood with the woman, she couldn’t read her as easily as she could other people. She heard the pronounced click-clack of Narcissa’s smart black heels fade as she strode further away from the depths of the library, before settling down and picking out a book from the shelf Narcissa had recommended she start with. Hermione spent the entire afternoon, but found nothing that would help this particular quest. She did learn that the Black’s kept more than a small country’s fair share of books on dark magic though, and avoided them with prejudice; she had opened too many books in the restricted section at Hogwarts to even want to look at them, and they were considered safe enough to be owned by a school - a school with questionable safety, but a school nevertheless. 

Resigning herself that she would need to spend another day here at least, and even then she didn’t have the highest hopes of finding something – the right thing. She debating seeking out Narcissa to ask if she could come back another day, but was saved from the awkwardness of figuring out how to find her beyond wandering around Black Manor looking for her, by Narcissa popping her head over the balcony on the first floor. “Did you-“ Narcissa cut herself off when she saw the expression on Hermione’s face. “Ah. I guess not,” Narcissa paused, considering for a moment and eyeing Hermione carefully. 

“If you thought you wouldn’t be able to get their memories back, why did you wipe them?” There was no judgement in her tone, merely a sort of distanced curiosity. The way a biology student would look at a dissected frog. Hermione blinked, “There wasn’t another way. They were in danger, at risk of threat from a world they’ve never really seen beyond when we went to buy my school supplies. I couldn’t protect them, and they couldn’t protect themselves, so I did the only thing I could think of to keep them safe.” Hermione shrugged, “they couldn’t tell anyone anything, there weren’t a risk to us or themselves if they didn’t remember me.. at all.” Hermione felt her throat dry up, suddenly, perhaps to compensate for the excess moisture starting to blur her vision. She blinked rapidly, trying to remove the tears from her eyes before they could escape down her cheeks. She would not cry again in front of this woman, she refused to.

Narcissa nodded slowly. “I’ll have you added to the family protection spells around the gate. You may come and go – to and from the library – as you please. Either until you find what you are looking for, or find it doesn’t exist.” Hermione tried to form a sentence, taken aback by the sudden show of generosity from a witch known most prominently for her coldness. She stuttered a reply, “thank you, sincerely. You don’t know- I would-“ before taking a breath and forcing her shoulders to relax, she said again, “thank you, Lady Malfoy.” Narcissa inclined her head in acknowledgement, before disappearing back over the first floor balcony. 

Hermione was suddenly glad for taking some time out for herself, and not having to work around… well, work. She could come back tomorrow and look through the next shelf in the section, she thought, making her way out of the gates so she could apparated home. There was hope on the horizon.

The hope faded when, after almost two weeks of searching and occasionally being brought tea by the Black house elves, -and them not engaging much in her attempts at conversation – Hermione was close to giving up. She groaned, stretching out her back by lying flat on the floor and letting the latest no-luck-book, as she had started calling them, drop from her hand. This was how Narcissa found her, looking slightly bemused as she appeared upside-down, partly occluding Hermione’s view of the ceiling. Hermione sat up, feeling the blush rising up her cheeks. 

“So this is how you’ve been spending your time these past days?”   
Narcissa raised an eyebrow and Hermione’s blush darkened, “ah, yes, well… I-“  
“Haven’t found anything?”  
Hermione shook her head.   
Narcissa sighed, “I think that may be Bella’s fault.”  
“Bel- Bellatrix? Bellatrix Lestrange?”  
Narcissa’s eye narrowed slightly at the use of her sister’s former, married name, not deigning to reply, but two weeks of fruitless hope-dashing searching had made her bolder around the blonde. Or delirious, Hermione couldn’t say for certain, but she was brave enough to venture a quiet question, “what happened?” 

The older witch gained something akin to a faraway look in her eyes, which was rather at odds with her usual sharp, bright gaze. “There was one school holiday, during our years at Hogwarts, Bellatrix set the place alight,” Narcissa seemed to return to the present and turned her gaze in all its intensity back onto Hermione, a thoughtful furrow on her brow. “She never did tell me why.”

As though breaking some kind of spell, one of the house elves, Flitty, appeared with a pop, to announce a visitor in his squeaky voice, before disappearing off again, but the damage to their comfort bubble had been done. Whatever had happened, whatever sense of camaraderie had started to form seemed to have vanished now. Hermione thanked her again for allowing her the use of her library, before resigning her present studies and heading towards the gate, leaving Narcissa to deal with the announced visitor. 

It didn’t seem like much, but Hermione thought that perhaps she had gained some ground after all, and if her two options seemed to be time travelling to when the Black sister’s attended Hogwarts thirty-odd years ago to find the right book, or venturing into books that made her skin crawl at best, but were more likely to wind up getting her killed or imprisoned, she really only had one option. She supposed it would probably be quite fun to actually finish a full year at Hogwarts without having to solve a mystery, uncover a bad guy, or the threat of impending doom, even if it was going to be in the 1960s. She apparated home and placed her bag down, turning on the kettle as she passed by it and mused, now, how to get another time-turner?


	4. Hello and Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to keep the Ron-related section as a separate chapter, for those who’d like to skip his presence in this fic.

Hermione stood outside The Burrow. Even if she did manage to restore her parent’s memories and things worked out just fine, she didn’t want this hanging over her. Hell, she needed to be able to focus to be able to get any part of this whole thing done in the first place, without the threat of this dreaded conversation hanging over her as a distraction. 

She knocked, and within a few moments the welcoming smile of Mrs Weasley was beaming at her, pulling her into a hug whilst good-naturedly chiding her for knocking, “you know you’re always welcome here, no need to knock dear.” She set about preparing a light meal for Hermione, despite her insistences that she wasn’t hungry, “just something small dear, to keep you going.” Hermione acquiesced eventually to a little something, seeing as Mrs Weasley had already started whipping something up and besides, she did very much enjoy her cooking. They sat and talked briefly as she served the veggie burgers, covering small talk and the like before there was a lull in the conversation and she could bring up why she’d actually come, “is Ron around?”

As she spoke, Fred and George apparated outside with a small set of pops, before strolling in the front door and revealing Ron’s shorter self just behind them. 

“Hello Hermione,” the twins said in unison, before one wandered over to the stove and the other towards the fridge.

“Hermione,” Ron said in surprise, “it’s, uh, it’s great to see you.”

He stood awkwardly in the kitchen as both Fred and George started poking around looking for the source of the delicious scent permeating the air, their mother batting their hands away as she took the freshly washed frying pan from its place hanging on the wall and handed it to Fred, though it may have been George; she wasn't as good as Harry was at telling them apart. 

Before the start of the commotion which was about to kick off from Molly supervising Fred and George attempting to cook even something as simple as a burger in the kitchen, Hermione gestured towards the stairwell and Ron nodded, heading around to grab the banister and go up towards his room with Hermione in tow. When they got to his room, it was the same as she remembered it. Even if it felt like a memory from an age ago, rather than the not-so-many weeks it had actually been. 

“Everything alright, ‘Mione?”  
Hermione started to pace as Ron sat on the lone chair in the room next to his bed. No point beating about the bush.  
“Do you remember George and Angelica’s wedding?”  
“’Course, I’m still finding glitter in my socks.”  
“Do you remember how much we drank?”  
“That… Not so much, really.”

Before he could derail the conversation, Hermione stopped in front of him and caught his gaze, “because I’m late.” She paused, to gage his reaction, “and I’m rarely late.”

The blissful puzzled ignorance etched into Ron’s face was enough to make her roll her eyes and sit down on the bed beside him.

“What do you mean, did we have plans? Did I miss something? I don't mind if you're late, I thought-“

This idiot, she thought, but chose instead to help shine a brighter light on what any person with a uterus would probably have understood, “I might be pregnant.”

The look of confusion stayed for a moment, before shock seemed to drain his face of colour and emotion. A moment passed, then a minute, then another. Some colour seemed to return to his face, but not enough that he would have had trouble passing for one of the ghosts around the Hogwarts castle.

“For heaven’s sake, say something Ronald.”

“Well… Bloody hell.” He stared at the floor as though it held the answer to all the questions one could ever hope to ask, before replying. “I mean, we can we make it work. I’ve- I‘ve got my job at the Ministry and mum and dad’ll be delighted… After the initial shock wears off sure but- I mean, you’ll probably need to move in here or something, so they can help look after the baby during the day- Unless you want to not work or something to look after them and you know. I- I guess we should do this properly.” He took a break from rambling to awkwardly shuffle off the bed and get down on one knee, taking her hand in his, “Let’s get married?”

Hermione looked at the hand holding hers, searched the eyes of the friend kneeling in front of her; he was serious. After stifling an almost incredulous laugh, Hermione covered his hand with her own, trying to show him she didn’t want to hurt him. This was probably the most he had ever thought something through, and she supposed it would have been a sweet offer if they were actually compatible. After all, what kind of example was that to set for a tiny person? And being stuck in a loveless marriage was far from how Hermione pictured any form of her future. 

“That isn’t what we need, Ron.” She pulled him up and he sat down next to her. “But I thought-“

“Even if I wanted to be in a relationship, I still need to restore my parents’ memories, first of all-”

“I’ll help,” the resolution in his eyes, the sudden determination struck her a little. She’d almost forgotten what he was like when he was ‘on a mission’. When she stayed quiet, he elaborated, clearly trying to work out a plan in his head as he spoke, “you have a plan, right? You’re Hermione, you’re got to have at least one plan already.” She smiled weakly, “I have something in mind, but-“

“Then let me help you? And hey, isn’t like a muggle tradition or something that I need to ask for your parents’ hands to marry you? Something like that… And it’ll make a lot more sense if they know they have a daughter.”

Hermione’s heart caught in her throat at the unintentional reminder that as things were she didn’t mean anything more than a stranger to her parents, but she could tell from his lopsided grin that he was only trying to do the right thing; whatever that was. But still, that didn’t do much to quell the urge to give him a sharp reminder that she was not property, whether her parents knew they were her parents or not. She reminded herself that he was trying – not succeeding, mind you, but trying – to be nice and that maybe she could use the help.

She paused and considered the offer, but in the depths of her mind she already knew this would be complicated enough without having Ron around; he was too emotion-led and prone to impromptu decisions, and she needed to be pragmatic about this. Besides, it’s not like he could travel back with her, if he would even go along with the time-travel portion of the plan… Besides, then he’d tell Harry about it and he’d probably want to go back and somehow get rid of Voldemort before his parents were murdered, and save Sirius from going to Azkaban, and destroy pretty much the entire timeline… After not much deliberation after all, she decided, there was no way any of that would work out long-term. She was better off alone. 

“If something comes up, I’ll let you know.”  
“But-“  
“I promise. If I think I’ll need your help, I’ll contact you.”  
She made a point of trying not to emphasise ‘your help’. Sheseemed to be getting very easily frustrated with him recently. He seemed about to argue the point further, but eventually relented. He knew how determined she could be once she set her mind to something and there was little point trying to convince her after the fact. He knew her well enough to recognise that. 

“Also, the whole asking the parents’ blessing or permission, depending on who you are, isn’t really a thing anymore.” She paused and took a breath to keep her voice even, “but that isn’t why we shouldn’t do this.” She couldn’t quite face the words ‘get married’. “It’s an incredibly sweet gesture, but we… we work better as friends. You know we don’t work romantically and we both deserve something more than we can give each other.” The words some things aren’t meant to be, were stuck on the tip of her tongue. As was a full, detailed explanation of the history of the so-called tradition, the long entrenched sexist roots of a system designed to disadvantage women for the profit of men, and why asking her parents for their blessing was stupid, but there was a time and a place and this wasn’t it. She reminded herself again that he meant well; god, had conversations with him always been this infuriating? There was a lot going on and she didn't have time to deal with it, even if she had possessed the inclination. 

She could see him putting his guard up as he shuffled back a little, that persistent, annoying pride of his coming to the fore, but it was to protect his feelings from getting hurt and she wouldn’t fault him too much for that, she’d been doing a lot of the hurting lately. Besides, it was time to go; she had time travel plans to make, a professor to see, and a memory restoration spell to find.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea if magical meals are any different to the ones in this world. Also I can kinda see Hermione as a vegetarian? She cares so much about House Elves it seems about right she would do the same for other critters… But hey, I’m just speculating.


	5. The Light at the Start of the Tunnel

Hermione tapped twice with her knuckles on McGonagall’s office door. She was welcomed in with tea and offers of shortbread. After a quick, almost informal catch up, McGonagall shifted slightly in her chair, leaning against the backrest. 

“So, Miss Granger; shall we continue, or would you like to tell me why you’re really here?”

Hermione’s unintentional fidgeting paused. She really should’ve predicted McGonagall would care for more getting directly to the point than beating around the bush in an attempt to remind her old professor that she knew Hermione, and more importantly, knew she could be trusted.

“The time-turner I returned to you,” McGonagall kept a carefully crafted stoic expression as Hermione spoke, “did you return it to the Ministry?”

McGonagall looked towards the door for a moment, “of course I did”, she said, a hint of indignance laced across her tone, before subtly casting a sound-bubble charm to prevent any unwanted ears listening in.

Hermione noticed the wordless charm and recognised the wand movement, but merely tilted her head questioningly. 

McGonagall sighed, “Miss Granger. May I be frank, assured that the information I am about to tell you will not leave this room? I trust you understand the need for discretion with a matter as delicate as this.”   
Hermione nodded.

“No, I did not return it. But the Ministry have been unaware of its continued existence since your- and Mr Potter’s adventure around the Department of Mysteries. It got… misplaced, you might say, in the following kerfuffle.”

Hermione grinned as she felt hope, actual hope, for a more substantial plan and being able to see it through.

“But that’s not to say it’s usable,” there was a stern look on her features, in a way that told Hermione there were no workarounds. Her voice was somewhat softer when she spoke again, “a few mere hours have always been the limit, Hermione. I understand you want to restore your parents’ memories – Andromeda sent me an owl in the hopes I had a book on memory transfigurations in my private collection. Unfortunately, no such transfiguration exists to undo the effects of such a thorough charm as your Obliviate.”

Hermione’s gaze flickered down, staring at the worn red pattern on the rug beneath her feet; there had to be a way. She just knew that if she could somehow find a way to get to those books before the fire- but McGonagall’s next words derailed her train of thought.

“There is no way at present. But that is not to say there is no way at all. Magical person or creature in existence fully understands or controls all magic, it well may be that such a magic exists, it just needs to be found and made usable.”  
Hermione could have hugged her.

“In the mean time, purely for the purposes of research, I will lend you this,” McGonagall pulled a long gold chain out from one of the drawers in her desk, “on the condition that you do not use it as it is. Getting their memories back will be a marvellous feat, and I have faith if anyone can discover the path, it’s the brightest witch of her age.” McGonagall held out the last remaining time-turner in Britain across the desk, offering it to Hermione with an open palm, “but there is no sense in pursuing a dead end, and I mean that quite literally.”

Hermione took the proffered pendant and cast a quick charm over it, so it wouldn’t be seen as a time-turner to anyone who saw it but didn’t already know what it was, merely a small trinket.

“Thank you, Professor.”

“You are quite welcome, Miss Granger. I hope it helps you find what you are seeking.”

Hermione nodded, unable to properly express her gratitude, but knowing that McGonagall knew how much she appreciated this. Besides, the majority of her brain cells were currently working on formulating a plan to modify the time turner. Although charms had never been her strong point, and she did need to get this done fast, she also needed it done right. But who could she bring in on her scheme, without risking the result she wanted… 

It was with these thoughts almost fully occupying her attention that Hermione left Hogwarts, deciding to seek the advice of someone she knew was ride or die enough to at least help her find a means or person through which to modify the time turner. Once she got to the apparition point, with a flick of her wrist, Hermione was heading for London.


	6. Repetitions

Hermione knew she should talk to Harry about this, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to involve him. She knew he’d want to help out, but what if it went FUBAR? She wasn’t sure she was ready to risk her best friend’s life after everything they’d already survived, on top of essentially losing her parents too; she didn’t have many people left at all. Hermione paused, eyed the time-turner McGonagall had lent her for research purposes and decided to wander down Diagon Alley as she contemplated potential plans. She might only be able to travel back five hours safely, but what if she only travelled five hours at a time? Over thirty-odd years… She did the mental maths quickly; it would be 52560 full iterations. It would be fairly straightforward to get a repeating spell set up to do it, and although this way might take longer than going back 262800ish hours in one fell swoop, it would be safer according to the known history of time-travelling magic… 

Composing the spell in her mind and mentally preparing the wand movement, Hermione ducked into one of the side streets and raised her hand, but the gentle touch of a palm on Hermione’s wrist stopped her mid-incantation. She looked up and saw McGonagall looking at her with a serious expression. “It won’t work,” she said, both soft and stern in equal measure. Hermione was about to suggest that they wouldn’t know until they tried, - and what on Earth was she doing here practically reading Hermione’s thoughts? - when the grey-haired witch withdrew her hand from Hermione and pulled about a foot of parchment from the inner pocket of her robes, detailing the downfall of Eloise Mintumble after she had tried to time-travel beyond the limits of the current safe ability of time-turner’s spells. 

“This isn’t the answer,” she spoke in the same soft tone Hermione didn’t typically associated with the head of Gryffindor, “but it also isn’t the only way.” She was used to the professor being curter and definitely not soft, but then, she also appreciated the gentler approach today. Another dead end, she thought. McGonagall caught the look on her face, “it’s just another discovery of what won’t work, on the way to the right path,” she said, as though speaking directly to Hermione’s thoughts. The younger witch was somewhat startled and considered practising her Occlumency briefly before dismissing the idea, McGonagall was just intuitive like that, but then nodded and resigned to needing to find another means by which to time travel. 

Distracted by her thoughts, Hermione didn’t notice that McGonagall seemed somewhat agitated as she turned as though to walk back out onto the high street. “Perhaps there’s a transfiguration that could help you?” Before Hermione could wonder just how much McGonagall knew, and how she had come by this information – Andromeda, she supposed, and thought no more of it – McGonagall left and it occurred to her. She might not have the skill to somehow transfigure a more advanced time-turner without a time limit, but if she could find someone who knew time-magic, someone who had created a time-turner… She had research to do. Lost in her thoughts, Hermione wandered back in Diagon and down towards Honeydukes, twirling the time-turner necklace between her fingers absentmindedly. 

Hidden in the shadows of another small sidestreet, McGonagall’s back arched and she shrunk suddenly with a muffled squeak, becoming a slightly smaller human figure than she had been moments before. The dark figure shook themselves, as though physically readjusting, then scooped up the emerald academic robes they had shed and headed off focused on the direction of Hogwarts and McGonagall’s office, to replace the robes before the transfiguration professor noticed they were missing.


	7. I'd do it for you

Hermione didn’t get very far in her research, before realising that the answer she was looking for was unlikely to be in a book; she needed a specific person, and people tended to know people better than books, which tended to rather overinflate the abilities of famous magical folk – the lack of objectivity was a frequent source of annoyance for her; Hermione was getting really sick of dealing with entitled purebloods self-proclaiming their abilities and extending them by a mile.

Whether it was the need for a friend, or the desire to speak to someone actually down to Earth, soon enough Hermione found herself at Harry’s.

“In our year, Theodore Nott was pretty gifted at charms.”

Hermione looked at him more sceptically than she meant to.

“Harry, I don’t think-“

“Believe me Hermione, I wouldn’t be suggesting him if I thought there was a better option. I remember Flitwick was always giving him points for Slytherin; it was annoying actually.”

“I could invent it myself! In fact I would rather-”

“Hermione-“

“Look, I’ll only go back five minutes and if it backfires then I’ll just bring a regular time-turner with me and-“

“And if you go back 100 years?”

Hermione paused, before letting out a sigh, that would be slightly inconvenient.

“Just, let Nott try to figure it out first? You could work on it together, your skills combined you have a better chance-”

“And he’s going to attempt it, if I ask him?”

Harry smirked, “who says you have to ask him as you?” He got up and went over to a set of drawers, rummaging around in one, before finding what he was looking for.  
Hermione looked at the clear plastic bag Harry held out; in it was a single strand of long blonde hair.

“I figured this would come in useful.”

“Malfoy?!”

“Lucius, not Draco,” Harry was quick to say.

Hermione spluttered, not quite being able to fathom becoming Lucius Malfoy – he would taste awful - let alone how Harry had gotten a strand of his hair.

“Think about it, who would Nott listen to? He might not listen to Draco, but he wouldn’t think to try and trick Lucius,” Harry continued, regardless of Hermione’s incredulous look.

“Besides, worst case scenario he says no, and no one’s any the wiser.”

“No, the worst case scenario is if he tries to use it?!”

Harry paused, “remember when you first got that time-turner from McGonagall in third year? Dumbledore said that some things were fixed. I’m pretty sure Voldemort’s death is one of those things.”

He could see Hermione was still unsure.

“What if he just makes the one, then you can Obliviate him and he never needs to know?” Harry had said it half-jokingly, but the look on Hermione’s features was one of serious consideration.

“For my parents,” she grit her teeth, “I could become Lucius Malfoy for a little while.”

Harry grinned; there was the rebel side of Hermione he had been counting on, and truthfully, begun to miss.

After spending the rest of the afternoon with Harry, catching up and splitting his pretty delicious attempt at a lemon drizzle cake, Hermione headed off, back towards Diagon to get the ingredients for a polyjuice potion and a passably fancy cloak from Madam Malkin’s. After acquiring what she needed, Hermione apparated to the Hogwarts gates and began the climb up to the castle. She brewed the polyjuice in the same girl’s bathroom she had the first time, before leaving it to stew and heading off to the dungeons. Carefully, balanced on a ladder that had to be as old as the castle itself, judging from the splinters that ran along its sides, she selected the vial of polyjuice and tipped a reasonable measure into her own little vial. She didn’t have the patience to wait a month for the polyjuice to be ready, but she figures she would replace the potions cupboard stock when hers was properly finished brewing and no one would be any the wiser. Climbing down from the ladder, she headed to the room of requirement. Once there, she took a deep breath, put Lucius’ hair into the vial, and drank the slimy, coppery-tasting concoction.

Concealing her face in shadows with the hood of the cloak, Hermione slipped out of the room of requirement and headed downstairs. She sent an owl ahead, asking Nott to meet her at the entrance to the Great Hall, from where it would be easy to direct them down one of the less well-lit passageways. where it was a lot more unlikely for them to run into someone who would question Lucius’ presence at the castle. It was rather lucky really, that Nott had decided to redo his seventh year and was still around the castle, it would’ve been a lot harder to track him down otherwise.

As Hermione walked along the corridor, she could see Nott, hovering at the steps by the large, open, oak doors and she tried to think what Lucius would do. “Theodore Nott.”

The boy spun around, his face seemed paler than usual, though Hermione couldn’t be sure, she’d never paid too much attention to the guy.

“Mr- Uh- Mr Malfoy.”

Hermione attempted to be intimidating, raising an eyebrow as though bored by him, or whatever silly facial expression Lucius intended when he gave that particular look.

“If you’d follow me,” Hermione didn’t wait for a response before heading away.

“’Course – I mean, of course, uh- sir.”

It was rather amusing to see his reaction to being unexpectedly summoned and seeming so nervous about it, especially after he had laughed with Draco and the other prejudiced idiots at her blood status, not too long ago.

“I hope- I mean, is there- should I get Draco?”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Hermione-Lucius paused halfway down one of the corridors leading from the Great Hall to the Herbology greenhouses.

“I understand you are rather gifted with charms, boy?”

Nott fidgeted with the hem of his sweater, “yes, sir. I mean, it’s what I’ve been told.”

She ignored how he puffed his chest out; fully aware he was feigning humility.

“Good. Right, well, I’d like you to change the charm on an object for me,” Nott looked up at her, his head still bowed, “a time-turner.”

“What?”

Debating reprimanding him for speaking -that sounded like something Lucius would do? – Before deciding to ignore him and continue regardless.

“I need a time-turner that will allow me to travel further back that the limited hourly charms the Ministry place on the existing time-turners.”

Nott’s hands seemed to shake a little, “you want to stop Harry Potter?”

“Never mind what I want it for, boy,” she snapped at him, partially to get him to stop asking questions she didn’t want to lie answers to, but also because she could feel the time ticking by and didn’t want to start morphing back into Hermione during this particular conversation. That would be unimaginably awkward.

“Can you do it?”

Nott seemed to think for a moment, then nodded slowly. “I think so, the Restricted Section has some old books on time magic, and if I can get the right-“

“How long?” Hermione interrupted.

“I- I don’t know, crafting the time-turner and then finding right spell… Maybe two weeks?”

“Excellent.”

“I’ll send you an owl when I’ve got something.”

Instantly realising the big, gaping hole in her plan, she almost let out a most un-Lucius-like string of curses.

“That won’t be necessary,” Hermione’s brain was working a mile a minute.

Nott waited a moment for Lucius to elaborate, but when he didn’t asked, “how should I contact you, sir?”

“You don’t. No one can know of this conversation or what you are going to do for me, do you understand? Your work will be well-rewarded, but if the Ministry hears of this-“  
“I understand,” he paused, having realised he had interrupted,” Sir,” he added weakly, trying to weasel his way out of any repercussions for interrupting.  
But Hermione was so thankful for the current light bulb idea flashing in her brain, she couldn’t have cared less.

“This parchment,” she pulled a tiny scrap from her pocket, “will allow you to tell me when it is ready. Whatever you write on it, I will see.” Hermione whispered a charm over it, waved her wand secretly within her cloak – she would be dammed if her wand gave her away after all this, she would not allow herself to have drunk Lucius-flavoured polyjuice in vain - tapped the paper and watched it break into two pieces, before handing the right-handed side one to Nott.

“I’m sure I do not need to warn you, boy, how very deadly serious when I say tell no one, not even Draco, can know about this.”

Nott nodded, seeming confused but prepared to go along with Lucius’ demand for secrecy.

With a very Lucius-like flick of her cloak, she turned on her heel and left, navigating her way back to girl’s bathroom once she was sure she wasn’t being followed, where she could breathe easy and await the inevitable transition back into herself as the polyjuice wore off.

If anyone had seen a fine-dressed figure with the long, obnoxiously white-blonde hair of Lucius Malfoy heading into the girl’s bathroom on the third floor of Hogwarts, they would have rubbed their eyes disbelievingly and most likely, gone to lie down, so even if someone had seen her, she figured she was safe, for now at least. She just had to settle back and wait.

Or, go out of her mind with bored frustration after a few days and try to pester him into doing it faster.

She was going to need a fair bit more polyjuice potion at this rate.


End file.
